Stolen Moments
by Clarity Rose
Summary: Tabris/Zevran and various others. Throughout the events of DA:O/DA:OA/DA2. Guest starring various other characters, including Angel Hawke and Fenris. Starting just after Redcliff. M for language, themes, and possible smut.
1. Camp Fire Stories

Dragon Age: Origins belongs to Bioware and EA. They're kind enough to let me barrow their world, to let my imagination run away with me.

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to pick it apart, just be gentle, my ego bruises easily. * heart *

A/N: These will be in order, and flow over the course of DA:O/DA:OA/DA2. Guest Starring my mage F!Hawke and Fenris, as well as other cast members of the series! This is totally not a procrastination to updating my F!hawke/fen story... really... *shifty eyes, innocent smile*

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><p>"What is the matter, my dear Warden?"<p>

The Antivan's accent rolled through her, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Asyla Tabris wasn't at all the type of girl that would fall head over heals, for anyone, let alone for a man like Zevran Arainai. In fact, she'd done her sodding best to ignore the Assassin after sparing his life. His heavy handed flirting irritated her. As did his complete transparency. Yet, one more time, she found herself being pulled out of a lurid daydream. A lurid daydream that involved him.

She rubbed at the back of her neck, thankful that the glow of the fire hid her blush. Her emerald green eyes slid towards the direction of the accented voice, and she managed to slap on her best impression of an indifferent smile.

"I do have a name, you know."

"Do you, now? And here I was under the impression that your name was simply Warden. Perhaps would you grant the humble request of presenting it to me, so that I may roll it over my tongue and give it the proper treatment required for such a beautiful woman?"

She rolled her eyes. This was why she'd been ignoring him for the most part. Every time she'd tried to hold a conversation with him, he took it somewhere sexual. Asyla didn't do "sexual". Sure, she could do wild. She could do crazy. She was hardly virginal. Growing up in the Denerim alienage wasn't exactly built for the life of chaste and virtuous ladies. That didn't mean she was some kind of whore, either. She'd sooner break a man's hand then let him touch her with out her permission.

She'd done it too, on several occasions. One of her cousin Soris' favorite stories was of the time that a few drunken humans had wandered into the Alienage after dark. She, Shianni, and Soris had been heading home after helping to shelve the stock in Alarith's store.

"Hellooo? Thedas' to Warden. Come back to me, lovely woman, before I find myself forced to fondle you." That sodding accent..

She blinked, pulling her eyes from the fire. "Sorry, day dreaming. My father says it runs in the family, but I don't remember him ever doing it. What was it you asked me?"

"You're name, dear girl, that I might call you by something other then your given profession."

"Right..." Why was it suddenly so hard to remember what her name was? "...Tabris, Asyla Tabris." There, She'd managed it. Now maybe he'd leave her alone to wallow in her sorrow.

"Asyla, such a beautiful name. I am sure that it means something in elvish. Alas, I only speak three languages. One being the language of love, of course." The Assassin flashed a toothy grin at her, waggling his eyebrows at her. She scoffed. As if she should be impressed.

"Now, Asyla, my dear.. tell me, why is such a beautiful face marred with such sorrow? When I emerged from my tent, you were staring so intensely at the fire, as if you were intending to eat it. Yet now you look as if you will burst into tears. Come, talk to me. Perhaps I can take your mind off of what ever is bothering you." He smirked, and she resisted the urge to hit him.

She sighed. There was no way of getting out of this conversation. It was her watch. She had another 5 hours before sunrise and they would be moving on towards Denerim. Besides, it really was the issue at hand. She hadn't been back to Denerim since her entirely-not-swift-enough departure with Duncan. That had been six months ago. It felt like a lifetime, with all that she'd been through since then.

It wasn't as if she could wake Alistair, either, even if she did long to see his smile. They'd just left Redcliff, and the lad was taking the situation hard. Not that she blamed him. Even if Isolde was, for lack of a better description, a spoiled, stuck up Orleasian bitch. The whole thing had horrified her. She was an elf, but even she'd had loving parents.

The whole camp had elected to let Alistair have the night off. Sten had taken the first watch with Leliana._ Voluntarily._ It spoke volumes about how much the Quinari could tolerate. Asyla was silently glad that she'd been able to find the Giant's sword. It had sent him over the moon in happiness. Which meant, he'd actually smiled and payed her a compliment. At least, she was only partially sure that it was a compliment.

"Asyla?"

She sighed. _Might as well, he's not going to leave me alone, _"If you must know... we're headed to Denerim in the morning."

"Ah, so then you are dreading a.. shopping trip with Leli, then, yes?"

"Ha ha, very funny." She threw a rock in his general direction, "No. I'm from Denerim. My family is there. I.. uhrm.. I didn't exactly leave the city in the best of terms."

"No? I find it hard to believe that there is a soul out in the world that would find reason to dislike you... Darkspawn and Loghain's men excluded, of course."

She felt the blush creep up her neck, and she forced herself to stare at the flames of the camp fire instead of those sparkling brown eyes of his. Wait, sparkling? What the hell was her _problem_ tonight? A chuckle floated over from Zevran's log, and she forced herself to keep talking.

"Yes well. If Duncan, I'm sure you've heard Alistair and I speak of him before, hadn't come to visit our Hahren when he had, I probably would have been swinging from the gallows." She sighed, pulling her eyes from the fire to look at him.

"Really? Do tell me what happened, dear girl." His voice was filled with its usual light humor, but his brown eyes told of an understanding of the seriousness of the situation.

She smiled sadly, glad for once to be in the company of someone who understood exactly what it was like to be an elf. "It was my wedding day, actually."

"Your wedding day? My dear Asyla, I didn't know you were married!" It almost sounded as if he was ashamed for all his flirting. It was her turn to smirk, and she was tempted to let him believe it. If only for a moment.

"I'm not."

"Oh? Well, what happened?"

"The Arl's son interrupted the ceremony. The drunken shem had sodding decided that since it was a _party_, he'd have some fun with _his toys._" Her words dripped with the bitter aftertaste of hatred that she held for Bann Vaughan.

Zevran clicked his tongue, but didn't otherwise speak, letting her continue. "He started rounding up all of the women present, including Shianni, my cousin. When he went to add me to the pile, I punched him. One of his worthless lackeys hit me over the back of the head with something. The next thing I remember is waking up inside a locked room full of my friends … watching helplessly as one of _my_ bridesmaids was cut down simply for _praying_."

She took a few, unsteady breaths, trying not to fall into the anger that was trying to swallow her whole. "Not all humans are bad, you know. Alistair, Wynne, Leli.. even Morrigan's not bad. You know?" She was babbling, but she needed to in order to tell this story. "They're not all Shems."

"Mmh, yes my dear. Of this, I am aware. Humans can be just as good or bad as elves can be. But please, do continue on with your story, should you be so inclined. I must admit, I am most intrigued". Some how, with out her noticing, he'd managed to move from his log, and was now sitting next to her, albeit with out touching her. A wise move on his part.

She chose to ignore his sudden closeness. "Nelaros, my betrothed, and Soris, another cousin, came to rescue us. While we were standing there, all huddled in a group and me at the front trying to protect them all since I was the only one who knew anything about fighting.. and the guards were all laughing, leering because they were so much tougher, taller, stronger, and better armed.."

"They started leading the other girls out. They wouldn't even let me go in place of Shianni.. I'm stronger, I could have handled it. She's so delicate and .. and.." She took a few gulping breaths, "but they wouldn't. Vaughan had decided he wanted me for last, since I had the most.. _spunk_." She spat the last word, as if it tasted terrible.

"And I'm standing there, by myself, trying to look meek so they won't see it coming, because like void am I going to let them touch me. My mother taught me how to fight, and even with out daggers I'm fast and I know all the right places to hit to kill someone. Then suddenly there's this voice, and the guards spin around, and its _SORIS_, and he's got a longsword in his hand. They make fun of him, because Soris isn't very tough, especially for an elf. But, it doesn't matter.. because the sword isn't for him."

She ran her tongue over her teeth, giving the fire a grin that was completely predatory. Her eyes glazed over as she spoke, getting lost in the memory, the camp receding from her view completely. "He slides the sword between the feet of the guards, and I catch it. 'Oh sod', one of them says. To late. They react, but much to slowly. I pounce, the longsword sliding into the the thick neck of one as I kick the other in the groin. I pull my sword out and plunge it into the others ugly face. That'll teach those Shems not to mess with me."

"It takes him a bit, but eventually I here Soris' pleas that we need to get to Nelaros and help the others. I don't really hear him at all until he mentions Shianni. The silence of the room roars in my ears and I kick the door open with my feet, the blood of those sodding shems on my wedding dress. I didn't even want to be married, but I am going to make them pay for ruining it."

"We're in the kitchen. There's another shem, and he's yelling at us, because I'm covered in blood, and where did we dirty knife-ears get weapons? I'll show him dirty-knife ear! But I can't, because he's already sliding to the floor. There's another elf in the room, and he's hit him over the head with a rolling pin. He tells us where we can find Shianni and the others, points the way. Then he runs. No one wants to be here when the cook wakes up."

Zevran moved closer, watching the pretty red-head as she spoke. It was clear that what ever those green eyes were seeing, it wasn't the fire. He knew better then to touch her, but he was going to have to stop her soon. Maybe not quite yet though. She needed to talk about this. If she didn't it was going to eat away at her until there was nothing left of the beautiful woman sitting in front of him. Yes, he would interrupt her... but not quite yet.

She was still talking. Her chest was heaving, sweat pouring down her brow as she spoke. " We go through the door, into the mess. There are some more shems sitting there, eating. One yells when he sees the longsword in my hand. I cut off his sodding head. He deserves it. His friend tries to take my sword from me. I cut off his hands. Then I stick it in his chest. No one takes my sword from me."

"We go through the next door, and into the hallway. I kill three more dirty shemlen guards. There is so much blood. I think Soris is in shock, but I don't have time to stop and see if he's okay. It's mostly on me anyway, and it just drives me forward. They're going to rape Shianni. Sweet, innocent Shianni who hasn't even had her first kiss yet. They're going to take away everything good and pure about her, like those drunken dock workers did to me when I was her age.."

Zevran's ears went red, and he silently wished he had stopped her already. That tidbit of information wasn't meant for his ears. As she continued to talk he swore silently to himself never, ever, to let her know she'd told him that. It was a story for another time.

"... the shem captain is having an argument. There's two more guards and their looming over someone smaller then them. I can tell, their shoulders are curled forward. Shems do that when they're trying to make themselves look bigger and trying to make you feel small and helpless. It's Nelaros. He's trying to keep them distracted so Soris and I can escape. I've never been so glad to see him before, and I only just met him today. He really is handsome. I think I can handle being married to him, after all. I smile at him to let him know we're here with out giving away our position."

"Something's wrong. He's not smiling back. The guard-captain suddenly swings his sword. I'm yelling, the guards are swarming us, and Nelaros is on the ground. He's bleeding! Nelaros! Soris we have to do something we have to stop the bleeding he's going to die I didn't want him to die please don't die don'tdiedon'tdie.."

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and a sob tore itself out of her throat. Then a second ripped violently through her, causing her shoulders to shake. A third came after she drew a breath, and suddenly she was aware of a soothing voice and strong arms around her shoulders. She leaned into the warm chest, letting the pain wash over her. She felt fingers in her hair, and absently she wondered how it was no longer in its ponytail.

"It's all right, my dear Asyla. You are not in some arl's home any longer. You are sitting here by the fire with me. You have my word that no harm will come to you, here, dear girl."

After a few moments, she sat up, wiping away the remaining wetness on her cheeks. She stood, digging into her hip-pouch. She pulled her handkerchief free from the clutter of odds and ends stuffed into it. She blew her nose, and then looked sheepishly in the direction of the Antivan assassin.

"I.. I'm sorry. I, haven't spoken to anyone about what happened. Duncan knew, but then he was _there._ I haven't even told Alistair. All he knows is that Duncan rescued me."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. Tears are not a sign of weakness. In fact, I would dare say a woman who knows her own feelings is stronger then any man wishes to believe himself. Come now, tell me what happened." Zevran patted the log, gesturing her to rejoin him. "I promise not to bite, at least this night."

And, she wanted to punch him again. At least this time, the urge to hit him was less about hurting him and more about her inability to flirt. Instead, she opted to just sit back down. With a sigh and a light smile, she continued her story.

"Once the guards were dead we headed down the hall and found the Bann and his lackeys attacking Shianni. She was sixteen years old, Zev..." She sighed, shaking her head, "Sixteen, and up until then she hadn't even been kissed! Soris and I always tried our best to keep her away from slime balls and humans with elf fetishes. They had group-raped her.. and then had the sodding nerve to offer me _gold_ to leave her there, turn my head, and WALK THE SOD AWAY."

"The worst part? It was a lot of money. 50 Sov's. Do you know what that could have bought for my father? For Shianni and Soris? Void, 50 sov's could pay the rent of everyone in the Alienage for a year! But all I could do was stand there and stare at Shianni, all broken and bloody. All I could do was think that these dirty sodding shemlen had forced their _filth_ on to her and destroyed any semblance of innocence she might have still had left."

"A conundrum, to be sure. Tell me, what did you do?"

"I put my sodding sword through his stomach and told him shove his gold. No amount of money is, or will ever be worth what they took from her."

"Then I am proud to know you, dear warden." He reached down, scooping her clenched right fist into his hands. "There are many things in life that are worth doing for the gold. I am glad, then, to know that you can clearly see when the line has been drawn.. so to speak."

She shifted her weight, her eyes lingering on his smile. Maybe he wasn't quite as bad as she'd imagined. Sure, he was an assassin and professed whore... but were those things really so very terrible? He was technically a slave, after all. You did what you had to to survive...

"What happened afterward?"

"We took Shianni home, but the city guard was waiting for us. I.. I couldn't let Soris be punished for what I had done. I took the blame, and the city guard let him take her home. Duncan conscripted me, rather then let me hang.. and, here I am."

She was looking into those eyes of his again, and the heat had risen to her cheeks. Her head was still stuffy from crying, and she wondered if she was sitting to close to the fire. It was suddenly very hot. He was smiling at her, and not in the usual over-the-top lurid way he usually did. Her hand was still in his, and she felt him squeeze lightly.

"Yes, here you are. With me. Alone." He purred his words at her, causing a chill to run down her spine.

She laughed. Anything, to distract her mind from where it was rapidly headed. Didn't she dislike this man? Wasn't he brash and irritating? Didn't he remind her of every drunken lush that had tried to get her into bed over the years?

His face seemed to be closer, and she was having a hard time looking away from those eyes. Her pulse was in her ears. Things were rapidly deteriorating, and she hated losing control of a situation. But maybe this situation was worth losing control of. Maybe she worked herself to hard, and she deserved this. He was _so_ handsome, and why shouldn't she?

He kept getting closer and her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest one thump at a time. His hands were around her hips now. Yes. She definitely deserved a little bit of fun. Obviously she didn't love him. Then again, she didn't _do_ love, and she knew he didn't do love either. That was alright. She could handle that.

Just a little bit of fun. That was all she really wanted. Someone to work out stress with. _Sod_, she was stressed out, too. The weight of the blight was on her shoulders. Alistair wasn't a leader, not yet at least, and she'd have to be strong for him. She'd have to be strong for all of Ferelden.

She'd made up her mind. If Zevran wanted to see what she could do, she'd show him. So she moved to close the gap, to press her lips against his and show him that she was more then just a pair of daggers. She was a woman, one who knew herself and what she wanted.

He pulled away, his lips dancing just out of her reach. He grinned that Zevran brand grin. The one that usually made her want to hit him. Instead, he leaned forward again. His lips brushed against hers, his voice as silky as it had ever been, "Are sure this is what you want, Asyla?"

Her wild streak burned, and she closed the gap, sliding her arms around his shoulders as she claimed the kiss. Fire laced through her limbs, and she felt the flick of his tongue. She parted her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own. Tasting him. His fingers were in her hair, and she pressed her fingertips against the soft flesh of his neck.

For a few, precious moments, there was nothing else in her world but Zevran Arainai and his lips. It was like that until they both needed to come up for air. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in time with this fiery haired vixen that was practically sitting in his lap. He'd definitely underestimated her.

She smirked, sliding her lips across his cheek, and whispered, "..Call me La-la."


	2. One Day Out

Dragon age isn't mine, belongs to bioware. Review plz. *heart heart*

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><p>"So, you want me to pretend to be your... what, master?" Alistair smirked, the joke lingering in his eyes.<p>

"Well... Sort of. You don't _really_ think they're just going to let me walk around Denerim wearing fine leathers and sharp daggers do you? I'm an elf, Alistair. Elves aren't allowed weapons within the city walls. And sure as shit they're not allowed to bloody well wander around the city with their head held high like they're someone important."

"but.. La, you are important!" he protested, the playful smirk falling away.

"Pfft, hardly. Anyway, do you think its really a super stellar of an idea for everyone in Denerim to know we're Grey Wardens?"

"Well, no I 'spose not. All that'll do is get us skewered.."

"Right. Exactly. See? This works out. All you have to do is walk around with a scowl and your nose in the air. Leli will be posing as your wife. Your _very Orleasian_ wife." The Orlesian comment prompted a "_HEY!"_ from Leliana. She snickered, but continued, "Zev will dress in squire's cloth, and I'll dress in handmaid's attire. Zev can carry my pack with our equipment in it and once we're inside we'll head to my fathers home and the three of us can change..."

"So does that mean I get to put on that lovely wedding dress you always carry around?" Leliana asked curiously, pawing over the few things in Asyla's pack.

"Yes, just this one time.. and if you ruin it I'll cut off all of your hair. Eyebrows included. Don't even think I won't." she said, only half-jokingly.

"I have a feeling, my dear woman, that this is not something our La-la is joking about." Zevran purred, patting a suddenly frozen Leliana on the hand.

"...But, don't city elves _hate_ humans?" Alistair was frowning now, rubbing one hand over his stubbly chin.

"We don't hate humans.. we just, dislike them. A lot. Besides, I know you, and it's my home. They're not going to attack you and Leli. They probably wouldn't even if I wasn't there. They're more scared then they are violent. Though If I know my Shianni, I wouldn't recommend going there on your own." Asyla winked, "Oh Ali it'll be alright. I know you can do this. Besides, you can totally make a spectacle and kiss Leli in the middle of the market."

"Wha.. I wouldn't.. I mean, not that Leliana isn't kissable.. but.. I.." the ex-Templar floundered, stumbling over his words. His tanned cheeks darkened, rose color blooming over his face in a flush of embarrassment. This sent the rest of them into a fit of gulping, side aching laughter. From across the camp, a chortle belonging only to Morrigan could be heard.

Asyla snickered, then shouted across the clearing, "Be careful Morri, or I'll make you go instead of Leli!" This received the response of, "Not if I twas the last woman left alive, Warden!"

Alistair looked like he was about to throw up, or maybe pass out, but more possibly he looked as if he could just die. It took him far less time to recover then it had for him to falter, managing to unglue his tongue. He took a deep breath and turned his hazel eyes on Asyla.

"La-la, why must you tease me. You wound my pride!" he said, clutching his chest with his right hand. He drew his left arm over his forehead dramatically and feigned a swoon. This caused a whole new wave of laughter, and a grunt of disapproval from Sten's direction.

"Alright, Alright. I get it. Leli's my v_ery very Orleasian_ wife, I'm a noblemen from.. I don't think I can pull off Orleasian, La.."

"Be from Redcliff then... or Gwaren..."

"Gwaren? You do realize that's Loghain's Arling right?"

"Mmhm, I do. Do you really think the guards will question a lesser noble from "King Loghain's" Arling?" She felt dirty, twisting her lips around _that_ particularly horrifying phrase. A shiver ran own her spine, Loghain's words to her at Ostagar echoing in the back of her mind. _"You're pretty for a Grey Warden. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't belong. The first Warden Maric brought to Ferelden was a woman, best warrior I've ever seen." _

"Well I don't see why you need all this trickery." Wynne clucked, having emerged from her tent looking a bit like she'd not slept in twenty years.

"Wynne I _just_ went over this with Alistair. Why is it the _only_ people in this camp who understand how this kind of thing works are the Assassin, the Bard, and the Witch? I'd blame it on Shemlen ignorance, but two out of those three _are_ shems.." She huffed, frustratedly. Leliana winced at being called a Shem, and Asyla instantly felt horrible for it.

"Come now, my dear. Let us not speak of our tall, round-ear companions in such slanderous terms." Zevran drawled, sliding an arm around her waist. She sighed, dropping her head against the taller elf's shoulder.

"Sorry.. I'm still not completely used to being friends with humans. Leli, you're _not_ a shem. Morrigan either."

"What does that mean, anyway?" Alistair asked, his curiosity piqued. He pulled at his cloth breeches, setting down on the log next to her and Zevran.

"Shemlen?"

"Yes. The Dalish called us that, and you like to throw it around while your in the middle of being mad and swearing. I figured it wasn't something very nice, but you always look so.. _guilty_ when you use it.."

"Well, that's because it's an insult. Well mostly. It's an old Elven word, one of the few we still have. The Dalish have more, I'd expect..." she took a deep breath, "It effectively means "Quick Children". If I remember what Valendrian told us when we were little, Elves were timeless once. Ageless. Once we ran into humans, we started losing that, and blamed it on Humans. From there they enslaved us, destroyed everything that was .. Elven.. and, one bloody vicious cycle later did it again. So, calling a human a Shem, or Shemlen, is.. "

Zevran piped up, catching her inability to explain it, "It would be as if we were to call you a Child, Alistair my good man. Being that you are young, by emphasizing it, we would be saying.."

"Yes, that my opinion aren't valid. I get it." Alistair was nodding, as if grasping the general concept.

"It's more then that, it's an insult that can mean anything, especially in the manner it was used. It's a really hard habit to break." Asyla said sheepishly, fiddling with her fingernails.

"Is that why you never call Alistair a Shemlen?" Leliana asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

"Ali couldn't be a Shem If he tried. Way to nice." Asyla said with a wide grin. "I really should watch my mouth. No one here falls under that particular slur. Human or not, none of you are ignorant children."

"Humph."

"_Despite_ what Sten might believe."

"Are you quite sure, warden? Alistair surely qualifies as an ignorant child."

".. I hate you so much Morrigan."

"Don't make me separate you two." Asyla snickered, eying the two as if they _were_ small children.

"Right, so, once we are inside Denerim, hoping our little ruse works in the first place.. then what?" Alistair asked, his glare still turned in Morrigan's direction.

"Well, then we can do a few things. We're going to go see, what was his name? Genitivi?..about the Ashes first off. We also need to get some supplies, and I promised Leli that we'd look for her crazy ex-bard..teacher? What was she to you anyway?"

"It's complicated.."

"Well there you go. We'll go look for, "Its complicated". We can also stop by and see if your Sister will see us, Ali. If you still want to, that is."

".. I do."

"Alright then. I've also got a couple of people I need to talk to. They'll keep us updated on the guards and any information we might need to haul-ass out of there. You know, in case the Crows show up," She looked pointedly at Zevran, "Or if Leli's "Its complicated" tries to ambush us," she winked at Leliana, "Or if anyone recognizes me as, well, _me_. Or worse, they figure out we're Wardens."

Bebouse, the Mabari that had attached itself to her after Ostagar, yawned, stretching his paws towards the fire. She smiled and dropped a hand to scratch the dog's back. "Why can't the whole world be as simple for us as it is for you, huh boy?"

"That, my dear, is the million sovereign question!" Zevran chuckled, tightening his arms around her middle. It had been a very nice trip across Ferelden. They'd managed to skirt the hoard by looping around the lake, past the circle tower, and down the northern road. It also helped that Alistair and Leliana had conspired to give her a few nights off.

She'd been sure Alistair would have taken issue with her new... _infatuation_, with Zevran. He'd been flirting with her since Ostagar. At first she'd been put off. It wasn't exactly as if she had loved Nelaros. Void, if she were truthful, she would have admitted that she hadn't even _wanted_ to be married. The pain of seeing him die and leaving so abruptly was still fresh, though. Also, other then Duncan she'd had zero good contact with humans.

Not to say Alistair wasn't handsome. He was. He was a nice guy, too. Even funny. That didn't mean she was in any hurry to jump into bed with a Human, no matter how cute he was when he wrinkled his nose. She'd spent to many of her twenty years trying to help her family get by, and some of _that_ had been no less then playing dress up for humans.

The Assassin though, now he was something exotic, charming. She had tried to hate him. He represented a whole different male stereotype that she had no patience for. Yet, he'd been surprisingly deep, and unlike the humans in her group Zevran actually understood what her life had been like.

"La-la, you're a million miles away all of a sudden. You alright?" Alistair was looking at her with concerned hazel eyes. She tossed him her very best La-la smile.

"Of course. I'm just tired is all. Who has first watch tonight?"

"I will do it, Kadan."

"Not alone you wont. We've been lucky enough to skirt the hoard so far, but that doesn't mean I want you out here alone, Sten." Asyla sat up, straightening her back and putting on her best _Commander_ _Asyla_ face. "And before you protest, I am fully aware that you are capable of guarding the camp by yourself. I trust you. Bebouse can sit on this watch. He's been lazy enough tonight."

Bebouse squeaked, which was an interesting enough noise for such a large dog, and stood up. Asyla watched as be padded quietly over towards Sten. Sten grunted an approval, nodding his head towards the dog. "As you wish, Kadan."

"Thank you. Morrigan and Wynne can relieve the two of you in 6 hours since neither of them will be coming with us into the city. Ali, Leli, get some rest."

"Asyla you really aught to get some rest yourself, _As well_." Wynne chirped up. Asyla's green eyes darkened as she looked at this woman. She'd very, very recently chided her blooming.. thing.. with Zevran. Asyla wasn't even sure what it was. Friends with benefits? Maybe more? It had only been two weeks! It wasn't even a _thing_ thing yet. Mind you, there was lots of sex.

It didn't matter. Asyla didn't need a mother, and she wasn't about to let this old mage shem lecture her on what her duties were. She liked Wynne alright, but sod if she liked her enough to take advice on relationships from her. Asyla would sooner take relationship advice from Sten.

She opened her mouth to comment, but Zevran was already talking, "Worry not, my dear woman. I will make it my _personal_ responsibility to see to it that our lovely La-la gets the proper rest required of a Gray Warden." Asyla felt the corners of her mouth curl deviously. Oh, she was pretty sure she would sleep _very_ soundly.

Wynne huffed, quickly disappearing behind the flaps of her tent. Alistair was smirking, shaking his head as he disappeared behind his own. Morrigan had wandered off towards the far side of the camp to her own tent, and Leliana was tucking away the food for the night before vanishing herself.

A shiver ran down her spine as Zevran's warm breath hit her ear, "Come now, my dear. Let us away. We mustn't delay your.. _rest_."


	3. Denerim

DA:O and all characters belong to Bioware. Plz review and tell me how horrible this is plz *heart*

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><p>"What?"<p>

The guard standing in front of the Gate grunted, turning his attention towards the meagerly dressed red-haired elf that had spoken. He sneered at her, making his distaste for her known. "You heard me, knife-ear. The rest of your worthless kin revolted. They say one of the blighters killed the old Arl's son. The New Arl has closed the district until order can be restored."

"_Revolted?" _"Revolted?" "_Oh maker, it's all my fault!" _"The.. Ban's son?" The elf's voice was but a squeak. "_It's all my fault its all my fault..Shianni, Soris, father, Valendrian.." _"Maker..."

Dimly she was aware of Alistair clearing his throat, "Come now, Tatiana, if the guard says the Alienage is closed, then you will just have to pick up your things another time." He turned to the guard and muttered out one side of his mouth, "Good help is _so_ hard to find these days."

The guard chuckled and nodded his head, "Sometimes its a real shame we ain't allowed to just kill'm and be done with it."

Every hair on her body not tied back in a leather strip was standing on end, and her vision went red. Before she could open her mouth to tell the dirty, stupid shem off, she felt herself being led away.

"Come now, Tatiana, I need to get settled in at the inn before I simply drop dead of exhaustion! Johan, please take my things to the Gnawed Noble!" The smooth voice of the Orleasian bard picked up right where it should have, and Asyla felt a pat on her hand as the taller woman lead her towards the tavern.

Asyla did her very best to breath. Breath and try not to be overwhelmed with guilt. She wasn't doing a very good job of it. Her mind kept running, even though her body was on auto pilot. Tears swam in her eyes, the color red blurring the edges of her vision.

"_It's all my fault. If I hadn't killed Vaughan... maybe I should have taken the money he offered? No, because then he would have hurt Shianni more... but, maybe she's dead and.."_

"Maker..." she breathed, the words sticking to her throat as the hot tears spilled over and onto her cheeks.

Alistair was giving the inn keeper... something, she couldn't see what. She didn't really care either. Over and over her mind she replayed the images of her family and friends. Had what she done really doomed them? What was going on behind the gate? Could she find a way to sneak in and find out? Would it do them any good if she was waiting her time here instead of saving Thedas from the blight?

Someone was leading her toward a chair. She was sitting, and she could hear a door close. A pair of soft lips were brushing against her forehead. Zevran, his sent invading her mind momentarily before returning to its utter state of _guilt. _Tears fell more freely, and she trembled against the back of the chair she was now sitting in. Her hands were in her lap, balled up into petite fists.

"La-la, what's going on. Talk to us." Alistair's voice seemed far away, and exhausted. _He really should be resting, _she thought absently, mid impossible to fully take breath. Why _was_ it so hard to breath, anyway? Her chest felt tight, and her breath was coming in small puffs. Each one was more difficult, and the room around her was starting to spin.

"Easy, easy my dear. Come, tuck your head between your knees and take slow, even breaths. There we go.. that's It. Good girl." Zevran purred, a hand rubbing at the back of her neck as he spoke. It must have been his hand, because Alistair was pacing in front of her. She did as he advised, taking slow, deep breaths. Anything to calm the rage and desperation trying to crush her heart.

"Alistair, why don't you go out and ask for some wine. I think we may need it before this evening is over." Leliana's thickly accented voice floated over Asyla's ears. With a sigh, and the shift of plate armor, Alistair slid out of the room.

She concentrated on breathing for a little while. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. _The tension in her neck was sliding away with each moment that Zevran's deft hands were there. Leliana was humming, the soothing tone of her voice helping to calm the panic attack before it could fully manifest itself inside her.

_What good friends I have. _

The click of the door closing gave Alistair's return away. He knelt in front of her, giving her his very best "Ali-clown" smile. "Here La-la, drink this. It will help."

She took the cup, drinking the heady, sweet wine slowly. When she came up from the cup for air, the three of them were just standing there, watching her. A shiver crept down her spine. She did her best to smile back, knowing what a horrid mess she must look.

"I.. I'm sorry Ali, I should have warned you.. "

"Warned me of what, La-la? That humans are almost worse the darkspawn sometimes? I already knew that. Raised by the chantry, remember?" he chuckled, his smile lighting up his whole face. It also lightened the weight of the situation trying to cave her chest in.

"That I'm the one who killed Bann Urial's son."

"Well.. he probably had it coming, if he was anything like that guard out there." He continued, lightheartedly.

She could kiss him, right then, "He did. He raped my cousin, among other more or less equally horrible things."

"Maker.. well then he definitely deserved it." He grinned lopsidedly at her as he spoke. His hands were suspiciously metal-free, and they were resting on her knees.

"Alistair, my good man. Why don't we let these fine ladies rest, and we go in search of this Genitalia fellow about the dead-woman dust everyone believes will cure your Arl Eamon." Zevran drawled thickly in the ex-Templar's direction. His hands never moved from her shoulders and neck.

"Hmm, seems like a good idea. Leli can handle what ever might happen here while La gets a bit of rest. Once we have some information, we'll come back and make a devious and dastardly plan to break into the Alienage." Alistair was eyebrow waggling at her, and it made her chuckle lightly.

"Promise?" She muttered halfheartedly. There was no way they were going to get in there before the guard opened the gates. Asyla knew the layout of Denerim better then any of the rest of their group. The only way in or out of the Alienage was by bridge or by boat. They had neither, and they had a blight to contend with. No, what ever had happened to her home would have to wait. Even if it was her fault.

"Cross my heart."

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><p>Zevran grimaced as they exited the tavern, the brightness of the day causing him to squint. He heard Alistair take a deep breath beside him. "Best bet is to head over to the chantry and ask the sisters where Brother Genitive's house is. If anyone would know, they would."<p>

"Hmm, lead on then, my good man," Zevran chuckled. He was still wearing the squire's clothing, but his daggers were now safely tucked away into hidden pockets for easy accessibility. Better to have them and irritate the guards, then to be attacked and find himself with out them.

The two walked along quietly, Zevran mulling over the reaction Asyla had when she found out that Arl Howe had purged her home. He didn't blame her, had it been his family he might have just reacted in that same manner. Alas, his upbringing was as different from hers as even Alistair's. He understood very much what it had been like for her, being an elf. That didn't mean he understood what it felt like to have family you cared for.

Alistair's voice pulled him from his thoughts,"So let me ask you something. What are your intentions with her?" The question seemed out of the blue, but he suspected that the boy had been mulling over it for some time.

"Her? You speak of her as if she is not a person. She will be most displeased to discover this, you know... "

Alistair sighed heavily. He stopped moving, turning his attention fully on Zevran. "Don't dodge the question. I'm serious."

Zevran curled his lips into a mischievous smile. He could hear the jealousy behind the words of the taller, younger man. _"How adorable,"_ he thought to himself. Out loud, he replied, "Is this brotherly concern I detect? Or something else? Perhaps you are concerned for me, yes?", and the growing smirk only grew wider with his next words, "Or perhaps you are.. jealous?"

Alistair's cheeks went red, which only amused Zevran that much more. "I.. I am just asking what your intentions are. You did try to kill us all, remember?"

He continued to look up at the taller man, musing at the impressive cover. Oh, he was determinately jealous. It only made this whole thing that much more _fun. _"And now I owe her a blood debt, as she has spared my life. It has brought us... closer together."

Alistair's face paled for a moment, but seemed to recover quickly enough. His next words caused a laugh to escape Zevran's curled mouth. "Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?"

Alistair was staring incredulously at him. It made the laughter bubble up again. The poor lad. "I assure you, ser, that I am not smirking. No smirking here, no."

Alistair sighed, glaring daggers at him. The taller man would be imposing, if Zevran were the type to be scared by big and bulky. Alas, he was not. Instead he continued to grin at the blond ex-Templar as if he were the cat and the current "object" of their conversation was the crème.

The two of them stared daggers-and-smirks at each other for a moment or two more, but Alistair gave in first. The taller man sighed, continuing towards the chantry. "Well, just... watch yourself, then. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

* * *

><p>Alistair walked with Zevran towards the chantry, his mind raging over the conversation between them. The smaller man had not backed down, much to his irritation. The whole situation was driving him insane. Why would a woman as smart and beautiful as Asyla want anything to do with the obnoxious assassin? Void, the only reason she'd even let him live was because Leliana had insisted!<p>

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth against each other. He was an idiot. He should have made his feelings known to her before then. He should have just told her. Maybe he still should. What would it hurt, except maybe his pride? He'd thought there had been a bond between them. Sure she hadn't been very warm to him at first, but she'd eventually came around to his charms.

Or so he thought. After Zevran had joined them, he'd noticed a distinct drawing away from the woman. She'd been opening up, relaxing around him, even smiling. He'd been daring, silly, even flirty with her, and she'd flirted right back. Every time she smiled, his heart felt as if it were going to break open his chest and run away.

Once Zevran came, the warm smiles and lighthearted flirting had stopped. At first she hadn't given them to the painted elf, either. It was as if having another elf at camp was nothing but a stark reminder of just how very different she was in comparison to the rest. This bothered Alistair. Didn't she know that the shape of your ears had nothing to do with the person you were inside?

They'd finally reached the chantry, and being that he _wasn't_ the one dressed like a servant, it was made perfectly evident that he'd have to do the talking. He pushed his thoughts to the side for a moment and put on his best Alistair smile.

"Excuse me, sister. I apologize for interrupting your... interesting take on the Chant of light." He mused, having just witnessed the older of the two women making a comment about, "The peas of Andraste." The younger of the two women sighed heavily, and looked as if she would like nothing else then to throttle the older one.

"Greetings, Ser. Please don't apologize. We were _just_ about to go to lunch, I believe" the older woman replied, her smugness a stark reminder of why _exactly_ he was so utterly grateful to Duncan for getting him out of the Chantry's grasp.

"Yes well. I am looking for a bit of information. Could either of you kind sisters tell me where Brother Genitive's home might be? I've an urgent message from Redcliff that must be delivered. My information tells me only that it is somewhere within the market district."

"Ah, yes. I had heard that the Arl of Redcliff had our dear brother working on something magnificent. He lives just across the way from the Gnawed Noble Tavern, if I remember correctly. The brother does enjoy his spirits now and again." This garnered a groan from the younger of the two women, but the older just smiled, apparently oblivious to the faux pas.

"Thank you very much. Sister, Sister." He smiled his best dazzling handsome young man smile, and bowed to each lady as if they were the queen themselves. The elder woman _giggled_, which caused the younger to sigh dramatically.

The pair turned and headed back towards the tavern. "Well, that was a waste of energy, truly. We could have done better if we'd just knocked on doors near the tavern for all that effort." Zevran was smirking again, and Alistair did his very best not to turn around and hit him. One more time, he found himself wondering what,_ exactly_ it was that his La-la saw in the Antivan elf.

* * *

><p>"Did you really murder the man?" Leliana peered curiously out at her from behind the sheer curtain of red hair spilling over her face as she buckled the last of her leathers into place.<p>

Asyla sighed, pulling her own shoulder-length strawberry hair into it's comfortable pony tail. She always kept it up while fighting, but had opted to wear it down when playing the roll of handmaiden. "_Easier to hide your face behind so no one recognized you"_ her mind mused.

"Yes. He deserved it. He was the _literal_ meaning of the word Shem. My cousin Shianni is 16, almost 17 now. Soris and I did our maker damned best to keep her away from some of the harder bits of life here, and that no good dirty no good.."

"Hmm, sounds as if you cannot think of a swear bad enough." Leliana snickered, helping the smaller woman clasp some of the harder to reach clasps.

"_Exactly_. Zev told me once, that some people just need assassinating. It's not wrong. Some people don't deserve to have the gift of life. Especially not people like Vaughan. What he did to Shianni.." Asyla intentionally left out the bit about Nelaros and being almost married. She trusted the bard, but it was almost a more personal failure then allowing her baby cousin to be raped. She wasn't ready to share that with anyone, other then Zevran. Nelaros had been a good man. She could tell that, even now. A good man with no more ambition then to be married and have a family, to carry on the traditions asked of all of them. That she'd let him die when she could have, should have, saved his life..

Leliana's voice brought her back to the real world, and she abandoned her previous thoughts as quickly as they'd been invoked. It wasn't something she had time to dwell on. It seemed that Leliana wanted to change the subject, as well. "So.. you and Zevran.."

She felt a blush creep up on her, and she did her very best to fend it off. "What about Zevran and I?"

"Well, I mean.. you two are pretty loud you know. I think Alistair was trying to eat his own ears last night. You might want to tone it down a little bit. I think he might have a crush on you.. "

"...what."

Leliana laughed. A full, real laugh that caused the woman to flop onto the decorative couch and hold her sides. "Oh La-la you are just to adorable. I could just wrap you up in a box and keep you forever."

Asyla's mind was, well, blank. She just couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of Alistair having a crush on her. It wasn't something she'd bothered to consider. Why would he have a crush on her? That didn't make any sense. She was an _elf_, and he was a bastard-prince!

"D... doya.. do'ya really think he does?"

"La-la! I am ashamed! Such scandalous thoughts!" Leliana laughed, winking at the smaller girl.

"What! I .. I just didn't think he would like some one like me. You definitely seem more his speed, Leli. All chantry.. and.. legs.." She looked down at Leliana's long, slender legs.

"Asyla Tabris, you are quite beautiful in your own right, you know! Just because your legs aren't quite as long as mine means very little! You are.. petite!"

"..Petite? Thanks, Leli. Why don't you just call me a piece of wood and wound my pride farther."

"Oh La-la. You're _NOT_ a plank of wood. If anything, your stature is endearing. You've plenty of curve in that tight little body of yours, dear. You're an _elf. _You can hardly expect to be built like a human. That doesn't mean you're not attractive.." and Asyla could suddenly _swear_ that Leliana was blushing, now.

She felt a new blush creep over her, and she bit her tongue before she did something horrible like insulting her friend. Not that the very _idea_ wasn't intriguingly scary in its own right, but other women just wasn't her favorite choice for sheet romps. Plus, shem... not that Leli was a shem... "Andraste's great flaming knickers.." she muttered to herself, putting a embroidered pillow over her face.

That prompted another laugh from Leliana. Were _all_ of her companions going to be hitting on her at some point? "Great, do I suddenly have to worry that Wynne's motherly advice is just a way to get me naked?" she muttered into the pillow, and then swore at herself for saying that out loud. What one void of a day it was turning out to be.

She pulled the pillow away from her face, and sighed. "Alright, so.. Alistair has a crush on me.. and I'm sleeping with Zevran, who I have no idea if he actually _likes me at all_ other then for amazing, and oh maker it really is, sex."

"This is what I've observed, yes." Leli twinkled at her, and that look on top of the whole situation being lain at her feet made her laugh.

"I wonder what Alistair'd be like.. maker, have you SEEN him with out his armor on? All muscles and.. ."

"Mmh, he is _quite_ attractive. Sometimes I wonder if he'd kill me I asked him if I could "_Kitty paw"_ his abs. Maker.." Leliana was blushing again, fanning herself with a single hand as only a dramatic Orleasian could. Asyla had to agree. The idea of straddling Alistair's chiseled hips and kneading her palms and fingertips into those abs...

"Not to say that Zevran isn't well built himself. He's more.. lithe though. Not all sinew and bulk like Alistair. Lanky, even, yes?"

"Maker, you've no idea. You can barrow him any time you'd like Leli. Seriously. The man is so..._agile_." It was about the best word she could find to describe Zevran.

"Hmm, I think this calls for a bet."

"A bet?" Asyla rose a single eyebrow at the taller woman, her grin wide with mischief. "What kind of bet?"

"Well... you're already sleeping with Zevran. But.. why not see if you can get Alistair to sleep with you as well. Then, you can tell me all about it so that I can live vicariously through you." Leliana was grinning deviously.

"but.. why not just go after him yourself, Leli? I mean I'm sure you could talk _anyone_ you wanted into bed. Besides, I'm not even sure I could. Zevran was easy because he was trying to get me into the tent with him from the _moment_ you insisted we spare his life. But.. "

"but what?"

"Well, I'm not _exactly_ good at this stuff you know. I wasn't a virgin or anything, but I've never.. _seduced_ anyone before, you know?"

Leliana laughed, her arms going around her sides with the force of it. "Oh La-la. You are better at it then you've given yourself credit for. You have both of those men scrambling for your attention. Even Sten likes you, although I do not believe its in the same way. Maker I hope not, with what I overheard when Morrigan propositioned him."

"What." Asyla blinked a few times, both her eyebrows trying to disappear in her hairline.

"You heard me! She walked up, well sauntered since that seems to be the only way she knows how to walk. Like some grand seductress. And she asked him to bed her. He just laughed and told her that should he do that, she'd need to wear Alistair's armor. The rest, well.. lets just say that Morrigan was put in her place for the first time in her life. It was amusing to witness, if I do say so myself." Leliana mused, grinning from ear to ear.

"About time. I totally get that she's into power and everything, but a little bit of humbling will go really far in curbing the sour attitude. None of us had super stellar childhoods or anything. It's not as if growing up free to roam the wilds and use her magic freely is a utterly horrible way of living. Better then scrubbing chamber pots when you were 8 so your family could eat, or being some spoiled noble girl's personal dress up doll." She made the most sour face at that particularly fun memory.

"So, would you like to hear my terms?" Leliana was trying to bring the conversation back around to her bet. Asyla had hoped the bard had forgotten, but apparently this particular conversation wasn't one that Leli was willing to let go.

She groaned, pulling the pillow over her face again, "Alright, what are your terms."

Leliana grinned like a cat before it pounced on its catch, "You have until we get to Orzammar to get Alistair to sleep with you. If you do, If you fail then I .. will walk around Denerim stark naked the next time we're here."

"And If I do?"

"Well then you win, right? Because you'll have both of those men frothing at the mouth for you." she winked at her, and Asyla thought she was going to throw up or die, yes. Maybe die. Dieing sounded good.

_You know what? Fuckit, why not._ "You know what? Fuckit, why not. Alistair's not a bad guy, and he _is_ cute, and those abs... what I wouldn't do to get my hands on _those_..."

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><p>Alistair was frozen, his hand positioned just above the door for a knock. He hadn't wanted to walk in on the ladies if they were dressing. Zevran had gone to speak with the inn keeper to secure the semi-permanent room for when they would return. It didn't matter, because he'd heard the words that wafted through the door, albeit muffled.<p>

"_..Alistair's not a bad guy, and he _is_ cute. Plus, those abs.. what I wouldn't do to get my hands on _those_..."_

Had he heard right? Asyla wanted to touch his abs? She thought he was cute? Why was the hallway spinning that way? He swallowed hard, trying to fight off the amazingly uncomfortable tightness in his armor that was threatening to show him all kinds of tasty images of Asyla running her bare hands, bare flesh, over his abs.

He struggled with his mind and his hormones for a few moments, trying desperately to push those_ delectable_ images out of his mind. Images if her writhing beneath him, whispering his name in her breathy devil-may-care voice. Images of her lithe, petite figure sitting atop his hips... They had a mission, and he needed to get the ladies moving.

He took a few more deep breaths, and shook his head. Once they moved out of the city and back to camp, he might just let himself entertain such thoughts. Such naughty, mouth wateringly wonderful thoughts..

"Are you just going to stand there all day, my good man, or are you going to let these women know that we are ready to leave?" Zevran's thick accent assaulted his ears, and he jumped, not expecting the roguish elf to knees up on him while his mind ran wild with images of the sexy elf on the other side of the door.

"I.. Uh.. yes."

Zevran raised a single tawny eyebrow at the taller man. "Yes? Are you feeling well, Alistair? Perhaps it is you who should be resting."

"I.. n-no I'm good. I just... You know what? Never mind, let's just get the girls and go." Alistair stumbled, knowing that even if Asyla had, licked the elf's lamp-post, as it were, that she'd been talking about _him_ to Leliana, and not the elf. It gave him a sense of self-satisfaction to think that the assassin wasn't quite as good as he believed.


	4. Luck

Dragon Age Origins and all characters belong to Bioware. Love them, for they are our creative overlords.

A/N: Sooooo uh, this one kind of ran away from me a bit. Never the less, it was fun to write. It also irritated the shit out of my husband, because I should have been packing instead of typing. Two weeks in Florida with the In-laws, which is actually a lot better then it seems. Just so long as they don't make me go swimming in the ocean. I dislike beaches. Sand, salt, and seaweed are not my idea of a good time. Give me a comfortably shaded pool side deck chair, a good book, and a rum and coke!

Next update will be posted when I return home, lobster red and ready for New England's Leaf season to start early. *raises glass* Please review, good or bad. I'd love to hear your opinions!

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><p>He wasn't sure how exactly it had happened, but Alistair had managed the most amazing feat of luck he'd ever been privileged to stumble across in his whole life. Which, considering the current trend of luck, it wasn't completely unexpected anymore. Between secret side missions, crazy witches, good timing, and their ability to find people willing to assist in their task, he did have to admit that he felt pretty lucky. Most of the time, anyway. Especially on nights like this one.<p>

They were headed back towards Redcliff after visiting _the_ strangest town in all of Thedas. Haven. The city had been full of Andrastian Dragon Cultists. Seriously. He still wasn't sure how it had all managed to coalesce into _that_ particular combination. The town had been built to guard the Ashes of everyone's favorite prophet, and some where along the line of generations they'd swapped to dragon worship. In fact, they'd even named their _humungous_ high dragon after her.

When they'd made camp for the evening, it had been a silent, tiresome task. The whole experience had drained the group of people they traveled with. They'd killed that high dragon, and many of them were crispy with bits of burned clothing and singed hair. It hadn't been an easy task, and he was silently grateful that La-la had insisted the whole lot of them accompany her.

What had been worse then the dragon-cultists, the waves of dragonlings, drakes, and finally the huge, angry high dragon, had been the gauntlet. Alistair wasn't what you'd call the most religious person. Mind you he was more believing then Morrigan or Zevran. Heck, until that day, he was pretty sure that La-la was less faithful then the whole lot of them, outside of Sten, for obvious reasons.

Yet, when they'd entered the temple, there had been a guardian. That guardian had asked very, very personal questions of each of them. It had been both profound, and disturbing. His own question had been about his guilt over Duncan. It tore the wound raw, and left him feeling exposed and bleeding. He could only imagine what it had done to the others. Even Sten and Morrigan had been disturbed by the level of... intimacy, these questions had.

Worse yet, was the third test. It had been a single image of Asyla's cousin, Shianni. The vision had disturbed her profoundly. He knew, as did the rest of them, that she blamed herself for what had happened to her younger cousin. After their visit to Denerim to find Brother Genitivi, They'd found out that the Alienage was locked out, due to a purge ordered by Arl Howe. She'd spent most of the journey to Haven in silence.

"_Hey."_

_Asyla had stuttered, her tears falling freely as she stared endlessly at the image of her cousin. The red haired elf looked so very much like His La-la, almost as if this woman was nothing more then a younger version. There were subtle differences, but so much of them were alike. They shared the same flame-colored hair, the same forest green eyes.. even the way this _image_ held itself was a shadow of the beautiful woman he'd come to care about. "..Sh..Shianni?"_

_The spirit gave Asyla a lopsided smile, "Who else? It's good to see you, I suppose."_

_Asyla lunged forward, bringing her arms up to hug the woman, the image, in front of them all. A strangled squeak and the rush of air was all that returned. The look of pained loss so stark on her beautiful face that it broke his heart. _

_She, the image, just continued to smile warmly at Asyla, "Life outside the city's been good to you, hasn't it? You're respected, loved, even among humans."_

_Instinctively he'd placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. Beside him, Zevran stood tall, and Leliana took point on the other side. Behind them, Sten had shifted, holding his blade at the ready to cut down anything that might threaten to harm his "Kadan". Alistair could feel the magic building from both Wynne, and even Morrigan. The spirit had this correct. They loved this petite, flame-haired elf, respected her, and would protect her even from this. This horrible, cruel trick of a test._

_The spirit was talking, still. "Do you remember us, cousin? Where you came from, and what some of us still face every day?"_

_Alistair could hear the hitch in Asyla's voice as she spoke, "Oh, Shianni... I.. I'm so sorry. I wish I could bring you with me.. I... I wish I could free you all.." and he squeezed her shoulder gently, to let her know that if that's what she asked of them, they, no_ he_, would help._

_The spirit's face fell, washing over with concern. The love in those green eyes could never have been faked, and it gave Alistair a shiver to think that this was more then just some trick of magic. "Really? I.. thank you, but that will take time. More time then you have to spare. Don't be sorry.. What happened, it _wasn't_ your fault. You where caught in the situation, like all of us. You saved us, just like you're trying to do now. It's a great task, and you _must _complete it."_

_The spirit reached out a single hand, "Here, take this. I want you to have it..." Asyla gingerly reached out with her own hand, having just found out first hand that the image before her was not solid. The Shianni-spirit gently dropped a silver necklace into Asyla's open hand._

"_I will see you again soon, cousin. Be safe." the spirit smiled lovingly at its cousin, and faded from view, leaving Asyla and the rest of them staring at empty air._

He shuddered, staring endlessly at the fire. The memory of that moment had wiped away any elation he might have been feeling about his luck. You see, he'd managed to convince her to take watch with him tonight, rather then split them up. He'd offered to pull a double, not even believing that she'd agree. She'd been spending her watches with Zevran for a few weeks.

Now, it was his turn. After what he'd overheard in Denerim, combined with his recent decision to look out for himself and his own interests for once in his life, something she herself had suggested, he'd decided that it was time to show her what a real man might look like. Zevran was suave, with smooth words and sensual looks.

Alistair grinned lopsidedly at the fire. Leliana had told him that his innocent awkwardness was charming, and sometimes a woman wanted real affection and awkward charm more then she wanted the devil-may-care-suave bad boy act. Thus, he'd do just that. He'd be himself, and show her what it looked like when a man truly cared for a woman, rather then just wanting her for a steamy-tent romp. Not, that he didn't want to try _that_ with her. _...Maker..._

"So, Ali... why so gun-ho to pull a double watch?" She asked him, and he pulled his eyes away from the fire, swallowing the images that had begun to dance in the flames.

"I, uh, well.. I wanted to spend some time with you." He swallowed again, his heart racing. He tried to recover, from what exactly he wasn't sure, "We don't really get to just hang out anymore, you and I. All these other people are always so _needy_ with their.. need..." _Maker, it's hot out here tonight, _"for your attention."

She chuckled lightly, setting her blades down against the stump she was using as a seat. "I do miss our talks. Maybe you're right. We don't spend _nearly_ enough time together anymore." Asyla purred at him. Or maybe he was just imagining it. She always spoke softly, breathy with an edge of dangerousness that had weaker men then he bowing under her suggestions. Once he had throught her one had been from years of trying not to bring attention to herself. Now, right at this moment, he didn't believe that anymore.

"So, Alistair," a rare use of his full name. It send shivers down his spine, "Why didn't you tell me right out of the gate that you were a prince?"

He felt his stomach drop, and the familiar wave of panic at that _word_ spread across his abdomen. "Maker's breath, woman, don't call me _that_. It's _not_ who I am."

She laughed, which caused a different reaction _entirely_ in his abdomen. It sounded like twinkling bells, like angelic voices singing the chant, like wind chimes... good, wholesome, and beautiful things. "Oh I don't know about that. Did'ja know that I saw him once, when I was little? I was 5, maybe 6 years old at the time."

He rose a tawny eyebrow, forcing himself to keep his eyes steady with those _Maker blessedly beautiful_ forest green eyes of hers. "Who?"

"Maric. He was _so_ handsome. I told Soris that I was going to grow up and marry him. He teased me endlessly for _years_ about it, too." She smirked, twisting her fingers carefully through that _utterly silken and gorgeous_ flame colored hair around a finger. He itched to do that, run his fingers through those straight, red-and-gold shoulder length locks that she usually kept tightly bound at the back of her head.

"I only met him once too," he mused, trying to distract himself from all the _images_ trying to invade his mind. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat before continuing, "He had come to Redcliff to see the Arl. I was 7. He had brought Cailen, who spoke exactly four words to me before running off to the armory to play with the swords."

"You look like how I remember him," she said with a smile. _Maker she's got such a beautiful smile.. _"What was he like, in person?"

"Intimidating... amazing. He looked down at me with such... regret. I've wondered my whole life if he regretted more, _me_, or the fact that he couldn't raise me himself. I figure it's the first, since he never came back after that visit. The Arl went to Denerim if Maric needed to see him."

"Oh, Alistair.." her voice hitched, which caused his skin to crawl with heat, "I doubt he regretted _you._ How could _anyone_ regret _you?_" Her voice was so earnest in tone at her plea that he almost believed it. At the very least it made it clear that _she_ believed it.

He was having a hard time breathing, suddenly, "Oh, I don't know," he managed to squeak out, "Morrigan might have a thing or two to say about that, I'm sure." he teased lightly.

"Yes well, I'm _not_ Morrigan."

_No, thank the maker, you definitely aren't Morrigan. She couldn't begin to even hold a candle to you..._

"Hmm, that's kind of you to say."

"I.. uh... maker, did I say that out loud? I.. uh.. heh." He was going to die. She was going to get up and slice his throat open, and he'd let her, because he couldn't _believe_ that he'd muttered that instead of _thought_ it.

She looked amused, "You never did tell me why you kept your secret from me." Blissfully, she changed the subject. One more reason to love her..

"I.. uhhum.. I just, didn't want it lording, heh, get it.. lording over me any more. It didn't matter, because I was _never_ meant to be king. The only ones who it ever seemed to matter to was _everyone else._ It colored my whole life. Even Duncan kept me out of most of the fighting because of it." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He took a moment to scratch at his head, doing his very best job to ruin what had taken him an hour to make perfect that very morning.

"I just wanted you to like me for who I was." He said meekly, dipping his head down as he looked at the ground. It was true, he had wanted to be accepted as just another person, not some would be bastard-prince. He had the inkling that she'd pulled away after she'd found out, rather then because of Zevran's presence.

"I still do like you for who you are. I just wish you would have told me sooner so I could have _dealt _with it and been over it a lot sooner then I have. I might have..." her pause caused him to look up at her, a tawny eyebrow raised in question. She was biting her _utterly luscious and kissable_ bottom lip as if trying to keep her words from escaping.

His heart was pounding, and he silently cursed himself for _not_ having his heavy armor on. The thin leather of his breeches was hardly counseling. What had she been about to say? Should he push for her to finish that _tantalizing and agonizing_ sentence?

He thought about it, about what she might be hiding as he watched her. She was standing now, her _tight and firm_ backside turned in his direction as she bent over to slide a dagger into her leather boots. He let his eyes linger there for a moment, reveling in the wonderful _throbbing ache_ spreading through his lower bits.

"Come walk the boundaries with me?" He heard himself say before he could stop himself. It needed to be done, regardless, but his mind was lingering on the rose he had tucked away in his pack. He'd picked it in Lothering, and once Wynne had joined them he'd had her preserve it.

"Alright," she muttered, tucking the last of her daggers into their various sheaths and hiding places. He stood and moved to gather his sword and shield. He didn't bother with his armor. He could sense no darkspawn nearby, so they were in no real danger. For just one, _precious_ moment, he contemplated taking his cloth tunic off and walking around bare chested.

After that moment had passed, he decided not to press his luck, and instead retrieved the rose and tucked it into his shield.

* * *

><p>Asyla quietly mused that she really aught to thank Leli for bringing her attention to Alistair's crush. Because <em>Andraste's flaming ass,<em> was this man good looking. Zevran was handsome, with mocha skin and long sandy hair, but _Alistair _was all muscle and bulk and .. and.. maker if she didn't stop this mode of thought she'd jump him right here and now..

"Are you ready? You take longer to get dressed the Leli does." She teased, waiting just outside of his tent with her arms crossed, just under her breasts in a desperate bid to make them seem bigger. She'd always hated her veritable lack of human-sized curves. Shianni had been gifted with her aunt's more svelte figure, which had always caused the three of them all sorts of trouble once she'd hit puberty. Asyla looked more like her own mother in figure.

Not to say she wasn't pretty, because she was and knew it. It just meant she had to use other wiles when she'd actually wanted male attention. She wasn't a "falling head over heals" kind of girl, but she wasn't above enjoying some company now and again. As she waited for Alistair to grab his things, she ran her hands over her tight leather pants and adjusted her cloth shirt. It wasn't as long or as loose as Alistair's tunic was. Instead it was nearly as form-fitting as the leather armor she wore during battle. The cloth kept her skin protected from the various buckles and bone ribbing. It also kept the Ferelden damp and cold out.

She frowned, realizing that unlike her leather chest plate, her shirt did very little to pronounce her bosom. She contemplated putting it on, just to give herself a, boost, as It were. It didn't really matter, in the end, and after a moments silent debate she opted to leave the heavier bits of armor. She also opted to keep her hair down for a change. She quietly cursed the maker that she hadn't brought a mirror or any rouge.

"Sorry. Ready?" Alistair asked as he emerged from his tent, tall and broad. _Maker_, what had Leli gotten her into? His lopsided smile caused her breath to hitch in her chest, so she as forced to just nod.

He gestured towards the edge of camp, "After you, La-la. Wouldn't want to out-walk you with out meaning to." he teased, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. She scoffed.

"My legs are not that short." she replied with mock indignation. "I'm an _elf_, not a dwarf." she huffed, folding her arms over her chest and doing her very best fake-stalk. She hoped the effect came off as she walked ahead of him, swinging her hips.

He laughed, and after a solid five moments, which she was positive he was watching her backside as she walked, fell in step beside her with little effort. The pair of them walked in relative silence for a while, and her mind ran away with her as she watched him moving out of the corner of her eye.

_His muscles move so fluidly under that cloth. What would they look like under you? Maker, he's good looking. I should have let _him_ go first, so I could stare at his ass instead. I wonder if its as firm as it looks? What have I gotten myself into? I'm going to _kill_ Leli when she gets up. Did I bring my 'murder knife', or did I leave it in my breastplate? I wish my breasts were bigger, maker why did they make elves so petite? His _wrists_ are bigger then my thighs! _

"La-la?"

_Oh Maker.. _

She tried to catch her breath, his voice having startled her out of the ramblings of her mind. "I.. Yes?" It took her a few moments to realize that he'd stopped walking. He was just standing there, by the edge of the small pond they'd camped near, looking tall and adorable.

"Get a look at this.. _Maker its huge tonight.._." He was pointing up at the sky, awe etched over his features. She hadn't even _noticed_ how bright it had been, until she looked up and found herself being assaulted by a fat and swollen full moon.

"_Andraste's ass.." _was all she could manage, staring breathlessly at the open sky. The full moon hung low and fat in the sky, illuminating everything around them in a breathtaking silvery light. Behind it, the stars twinkled against the silky backdrop of pure midnight.

"I know... its like seeing that urn all over again." he muttered, having at some point moved to stand next to her. She shivered, a feeling that she couldn't describe or explain washing over her one more time. The urn had brought a realness to the stories she hadn't bothered to ever really believe he whole life, and one more time she found it hard to breath. She'd _never _been very religious... but now she could claim that her _faith_ was very real.

In her quiet moment of contemplation, she heard him speak, his voice barely a whisper, "...like how I felt when you came out of Flemeth's hut, alive."

She twisted to face him, realizing that he wasn't looking at the moon any longer...

* * *

><p>He was looking down at her, drinking in every bit of detail he could make out in the illumination of the full moon. Her normally flame-colored hair looked wine-heady in the silvery darkness, shimmering like satin in the light. He reached down to touch it, running his rough hands through the silken strands. His breath was caught in his throat, and tears sprang into his eyes.<p>

"Maker, you're beautiful." he breathed, knowing that beautiful wasn't even close to the words required to describe this woman standing in front of him, looking up at him with eyes the color of emeralds, fresh grass, whole forests full of healthy leaves in mid-summer...

She looked away, those eyes falling to the ground or somewhere equally _not him_, rosy color blooming on her pale cheeks. He swallowed hard, bringing his hand to brush gently across one of those _amazingly porcelain_ cheeks. He ran his thumb across the warm blush, his heart threatening to explode from his chest. He slid his hand under her chin, to tilt it up, to bring those eyes back to him.

"_Asyla" _he whispered, dipping his head to brush his lips across those dewy, rose-kissed things that made other lips ashamed to be called by the same word. Gently, ever so gently, because he feared that he might break her, because she felt fragile and feather-light in his arms as he wove them around her, he kissed her and those lips.

He kissed her, pressing his lips against hers, fire racing through his limbs as he felt her rise up on her toes to meet his lips. They returned with feeling, heat, want. It was like he was drowning in _ feeling, want, heat, soft lips..._ an angel, and he'd happily die right then.

He lifted her, just as feather light as he imagined she'd be, so that she wouldn't have to reach so very far. He never once pulled his mouth from hers, breathing wasn't even something he could do anymore, with her tucked in his arms. He held her, lead her to a rocky outcropping, his mouth moving against hers, his fingers in her hair.

The words she had spoken to him echoed in the back of his mind as he managed to find a spot to sit, pulling the petite angel into his lap. _"That's how the world is, Alistair. You need to look after yourself and your own needs." _Oh and he was. He wanted her, needed _her_, this angel disguised as a woman that he was kissing. He slid his lips down, away from those _lusciously delicious_ lips of hers and down to her pale throat.

A breathy, _"Alistair.."_ escaped those lips, and he groaned, because it sounded _exactly_ as he'd hoped it would. He moved his lips across her throat, brushing them softly against the warm flesh, bringing his tongue to taste it. Every inch of her was a blissful combination of sweet and salty. He wove his fingers into that silky red hair, goose bumps erupting over his flesh as he kissed.

He brought his mouth back up to meet hers, the experience as shockingly _amazing_ as it had been the first time. He felt himself press against her, the thin cloth and leather separating their flesh was _maddening. _A beautiful, _horribly maddening _that caused him to groan again, though his lips never left hers. He could feel her hands in her hair, on his neck, pressing against his shoulders, and it only drove him onward, his tongue parting her lips.

It was some time later, he didn't even know how long it had been, before they detached themselves from each other. He left his forehead pressed gently against hers, their noses touching. His arms never left her hips, even if she was planted firmly in his lap. Her legs here wrapped around his waist, and she was panting, trying to catch the breath he'd stolen when he had kissed her that way.

He hated to do it, but if he didn't break the silence he knew he'd just kiss her again, and the rose would go unattended to. "..So"

A smile bloomed across her face, causing his heart to ache with how very much he loved her. "So... I can honestly say I wasn't expecting _that_."

He chuckled, letting his deep voice rumble his chest. He felt a tremble course through her, "Well I hadn't planned on doing it.. well, I mean, not yet, anyway."

She snickered, "You're so adorable, do you know that?" and rubbed her nose against his lightly.

"Hmm I think I _may_ have heard that once or twice before. Couldn't hurt to hear again though, I expect." he teased, impressed with his ability to even _think_ around her, especially when she was sitting _in his lap_ running those deft hands through his hair.

She laughed fully at that, which just caused him to rumble, pulling his forehead away from hers to nuzzle at that _delicious_ hollow between her throat and her breastbone. "So.. mm what were you going to do then, if not kiss me like _that. _Because I could stand to be kissed like that again... and possibly again."

"Ah... well, It could be arranged if you'd like. But, first.." he unwrapped his arms from her waist to grab up his shield. He plucked the rose out from the lining, letting his shield fall back to the stone with a clatter. He flinched slightly, because that _particular_ clink meant he'd have to spend time buffing out a scratch. He'd worry about it another time though, because there was a_ beautifully supple_ woman sitting in his lap at the moment.

"D'jou know what this is?" He asked her tentatively, twirling the stem between his forefinger and thumb.

* * *

><p>"...Is, it your new weapon of choice?" She questioned him. Her mind was running a mile a minute, and her body was still screaming at her to just pull his pants off and let it have its way with him. That kiss had been... <em>maker<em> there wasn't a word strong enough to describe it. She'd _never_ been kissed like _that_ before. Thus, she heard herself ask the dumbest of questions when he had produced a perfect red rose.

He was laughing, which sent all _sorts_ of good feelings through her limbs, "Yes! That's right! Watch, as I thrash our enemies with the power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn, ha! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"

She giggled, _actually giggled_, clinging to his shoulders as he jostled her around, thrashing at imaginary darkspawn while she remained in his lap, legs woven around his back. After a moment of silliness, he settled back down, shifting her slightly so she could rest against his chest. He went right back to twirling the rose between his fingertips.

"Or," he took a deep breath, "It could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull, in comparison..."

She went to interrupt him, but he was still talking, "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it." He sighed, brushing his chin across the top of her head.

"So, I've had it ever since."

Her heart swelled, and she was sure she was going to melt into a puddle, right there, in his lap. The idea that he'd picked a rose to save it's beauty was so amazingly sweet and _.. just like him to do_ that she squeezed her arms tight. "That's a nice sentiment..." she murmured, kneading her face against the cloth of his shirt and the solid muscles beneath.

"Hmm, I thought that I might... give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways I think the same thing when I look at you."

_Oh _Maker_, I really am going to melt into a puddle. I'm going to melt and pour out through the bottoms of my boots. _"Oh Alistair.. thank you. I..it's a lovely thought."

His hand slipped under her chin, tilting it up to look at him. Those hazel eyes of his were unfathomable,and she fought off the urge to kiss him. Only because he was talking again, though. She did very much enjoy the sound of his voice.

"I'm glad you like it. I've just been thinking... here I am, doing all this _complaining_, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. " He ran his fingers gently through her hair, which caused her to shiver. "You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death, and fighting, and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say.. something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find among all this.. darkness."

Warmth spread throughout her, looking up into those eyes and hearing that he thought she was beautiful. "I.. I... I know what you mean." the words felt lackluster, as if the meaning behind them paled in comparison to the beautiful words he'd given her. Gently she plucked the rose from his fingers, and tucked it behind one ear. "Thank you."

"Hmm, I'm glad you like it. Now.. if we could, just move on past all this awkward, embarrassing stuff and right on to the steamy bits that would be great."

"That can be arranged..."

* * *

><p>As his lips met hers, he thought to himself, <em>"Yes, you are definitely a lucky man."<em>


	5. Bitter Fruit

Dragon Age: Origins, and all related characters, themes, and etc are property of Bioware. They're kind enough to allow me to barrow their world.

A/N: I dislike this, I feel like it should be longer... but I've been widdling away at it for almost two weeks now and I felt as if I should post -something-. So here it is. There's more, and its in my head, but I'm out of time for this particular bit and you've been waiting very patiently for it :)

* * *

><p>Orzimmar. There was little that could be said that was good about the place. It was fascinating, to be sure. Fascinating, and horrifying. The more pleasant things about the place were the crushing weight of the sky-less ceilings, the humid stale air that reeked of dwarf sweat, and the dirt-flavored ale. The less enjoyable bits were things like the civil war, the mindless tasks they were set upon to solve it, and the maddening urge to go <em>outside<em> and let the sun seep into his skin.

Those were just the okay and the iffy. The really, truly horrible thing about Orzimmar, were the doe eyed looks Alistair kept giving the pretty Warden. Or perhaps the rose she had taken to wearing, tucked into her flame-colored pony tail. It made his fingers twitch, and often he found himself fingering the pommel of his sheathed daggers.

Something had happened between them, Alistair and Asyla. Zevran Arainai was no fool. He could see the signs a mile away. The Ex-Templar had a spring to his step that had not been there previously, and the lovely Asyla held a blush in her cheeks that she had previously only held for him.

What bothered him the most, was that it bothered him at all. He was a worldly man, and had always taken his pleasures when they came. The Warden, Tabris, should have been nothing more then a fling. A quick tryst to ease the tension of battle. A simple night, or several simple nights, of passion and sweaty limbs, to take ones mind off impending doom. It should have been of no consequence to him.

It was a game. Could he bed the pretty elven lady? He had failed to kill her, so this particular challenge had been sweetly won. Especially once Alistair had expressed his jealousy of the conquest. Oh, and what a conquest it had been, too. The woman knew her way around the bedroom, so it would seem. Which was both fun and exciting to learn.

He sighed, his hand firmly tucked around a stone cup of his own favorite Antivan wine. It seemed that the Grey Wardens, at least, knew how very dreadful the dwarven brews truly were. They'd gone exploring the estate granted to Wardens during their stay within the Dwarven Kingdoms. If you could even truly call it a kingdom anymore. In their quest, he and Sten had managed to rummage up three casks of Antiva's finest. A worthy reward.

He liked the dwarves well enough, to be sure. They had a bit of the crow in them here in the Diamond Quarter. Brother against brother, cousin against cousin in the mad dash for power and prestige. Poison, sharp dagger, and keen wit. Yes, he did indeed like the dwarves.

"...Alas," he sighed, looking down into his mug, "If only there was blue sky and bright sunshine to go with the extraordinary amount of regicide."

"You are a very strange Elf." mused the redhead sitting across the table from him. Leliana was beautiful, and he did have to admit that he was most fortunate to be in the company of so many beauties. It made this whole ordeal much more bearable.

"Ah, but that I am, my dear Leliana. It is something I have heard often enough in my travels. Tell me, is there something you require of me, or are you just here to fill my vision with beautiful red hair and supple flesh? Because if I wished to see that, I am sure I could just ask the Warden." he had not meant to come off as annoyed, but the bard had been hovering for the last few days.

Leliana _tsk't_, which irritated him all the more. "Zevran, do I hear defeat in you're voice? You really aren't going to let _Alistair_ win, are you?"

_Let Alistair win? What in Andraste's magical flaming bosom was this woman going on about?_ "My dear Leliana, what in Andraste's name are you going on about?" he inquired aloud. The playful way in which this woman had presented this idea set his mind spinning, and so he did his very best to sound bored. It was never good to let a woman know one's tells. In particular, this woman.

"Why Asyla, of course. She is quite a lovely woman, if I do say so myself," her tone was rather innocent, but the curl of her lips spoke volumes. "Strong, able, fun.. surely an elf, a _man_, such as yourself could find no equal. I am sure Alistair believes much the same way."

She continued on, in such a manor that only an Orlesian bard could, "A prize to be sure, a beautiful elven mistress for the King of Ferelden." the thick accent rolled off her tongue, and she smiled her smile, that ever the pretty, innocent chantry sister smile.

If the bard had expected him to jump up and be offended by such a notion, then she was terribly mistaken. Kings took mistresses all the time. What did it matter to him if the ex-Templar took Asyla as his mistress once crowned? "Should this be a concern of mine, my dear? When have kings ever been faithful to their wives?" he said, leaning gently against the back of his chair.

Yet, it did bother him. Asyla Tabris was better then that. She was strong, steadfast, truthful... a king's mistress was hardly appropriate a station for such a woman as Asyla. Alistair was a good man, and may yet become a worthy King, but only a fool believed that he would be permitted to take an Elf for a wife. Not in this life time. Not even in the next, if such a thing existed. Which he wasn't sure it did.

None of this, though, did he vocalize. Especially not to the Bard. Zevran Arainai had lived his whole life around whores and assassins. A bard was a bit of both of those things, plus a few more tricks that even he found unsavory. Instead, he sat forward and plucked a single apple from the stone bowl upon the stone counter that was built into the stone floor. He brought that apple, brought here strictly to accommodate the cast of humans-and-elves, and quinari in the Warden's party, to his mouth, and took a bite. Chewing was a great way to mask ones face when one was thinking. So he took his time to really _enjoy_ this particular apple. While watching the bard.

It took her a few moments, this bard. She watched him right back, blue eyes innocent of any true emotion other then pure curiosity. What was her game, he wondered as he enjoyed his apple. Was this supposed chantry sister out to cause trouble? Perhaps to babysit the mages that accompanied the Warden? It was hard to tell, really, so he took another bite.

"I just thought that you might find it interesting to know, that before our visit to Haven," her mouth was curled, as coy as the words she spoke, "that she didn't even see him at all. Her vision was full of tanned, Antivan elf." The red-haired bardess stood, winked, and then sauntered in her manor out of the room, leaving Zevran to his thoughts, and his apple.

* * *

><p>Asyla sighed, her hands firmly pressed against the stone desk separating herself from this dwarf, <em>Bhelen<em>. He should consider himself lucky that there was something so very solid between them, because at the moment she wanted to slice his throat out for being so very _obnoxious_.

"So now that I've gone and chased down Dwarven lords in the deep roads for you, to prove that this Harrowmont is double crossing everyone and bad for business or what ever it is I did," she waved one hand in the air to demonstrate just how very little she cared about this whole situation. "Now... now I have to go hunting for your criminals before you'll give me the troops I need? You do realize this is a _Blight_, right? It's not some human war over lands or religion. Its a Blight."

"I am sorry, Warden, but I've gone over this with you already. I do not yet have the authority to give that to you just yet. Do this for me and I'll be named King and then you will have all the troops you desire."

"Fine." She sighed, throwing her hands up in the air. She'd much rather just punch him, but it would solve nothing. Were Dwarven troops really even going to be useful on the surface? Sure they knew enough about Darkspawn, but wouldn't most just be bitter? "If that's what I have to do for you and your people to honor the treaties, then so be it. But I swear, Bhelen, do not tempt me. Your ancestors swore an oath to assist during the blight, same as mine and _his, and hers.." _she emphasized, pointing at Alistair, and at Wynne. "Humans, Mages, Dwarves, Elves. And until now, they've, we've, all complied. For much less."

"_Asyla..."_ Alistair hissed, a warning noise to alert her to her rising temper. She ignored it. She was getting fed up with the game of politics. She wasn't built for this shit.

Bhelen looked at her for a few moments, and then let forth a hearty laugh. "Oh Miss Tabris, I like you. If I could give you those troops now I would in a heart beat. It's hardly my fault that my brothers decided to kill themselves over this stupid throne. But, I am heir, and the Usurper would claim what should rightfully be mine. He would weaken and destroy what little is left of this place, these people. He would keep things as they are and watch as we die, extinct out of ignorance and _tradition_. You will have your army, and it will be filled with dwarves of all castes, noble and branded alike."

"Good." If nothing else, she liked this particular dwarven lord. He understood that the poor were as much people as the rich sitting high in their fancy walls. "Alistair, Wynne, we'll be taking our leave of the prince's company. We need to prepare if we're to take on a crime lord."

She bowed, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something snotty, and once recognized, she spun on her heels and headed out the doorway. Once out side of the palace, she muttered under her breath, "I can't blighting _wait_ to be done with this place. If I never see another rock-wall again it'll be to soon."

This brought a chuckle from Alistair and an overtly exasperated sigh from Wynne. She thanked the maker she'd decided to leave the other three behind. Except Zevran. She could stand to use a dose of his particular brand of humor right about then.

"Well that's.. not.. how I would have handled the situation, but.." Alistair fumbled, adorably, for the right words. She just sighed and shook her head, "I know you don't like him, Ali. That doesn't mean a thing in the long run. From everything I've learned about the other one, what's his face.. Harrymont?"

"Harrowmont," Wynne corrected curtly.

"Thank you, mom," she chirped flatly, her head tilted in Wynne's general direction. It earned a, "Ha!", but it could have been a "Humph!" It was hard to tell with the echo. "...Harrowmont. Everything I've managed to gather is that he wants things pretty much the status quo around here. Which would be fine, but you weren't with me when I went down to Dust-town. It's worse then the Alienage, to be sure." she sighed, pausing in front of the Grey Warden compound.

"Worse then.."

"Rich folks don't steal, Alistair. At least, they don't steal bread. If they've got a Crime-syndicate, its because the poor are really, really poor." She grimaced as she looked up at the handsome ex-Templar. Maker, he was handsome too, and better in the tent then he'd given himself credit for... but that wasn't where she wanted her mind to go just then. Maybe later. Wynne excused herself inside, leaving the two of them standing there, staring at each other.

"So there's really no way for me to convince you that this Bhelen seems like a slimy no good.." He struggled on this sentence, as if nothing came to mind that was bad enough to call the Dwarven prince.

"No, there's really nothing you can say. He might be slimy, no good, and probably guilty of Patricide, but he's probably the best thing for the Dwarves if he plans on lightening the restrictions on the castless and low-born dwarves. They're _dying_, Alistair, and not just of normal things that might kill people. They're causing their own extinction. Something's got to change. It might not feel good now, but it'll be good in the long run. I promise."

He sighed, hanging his head. "Alright, you're the boss. If you think this is really best.. "

"It is. You trust me, don't you?" she asked, and did her best job of giving him the big-green-puppy-eyes look.

"Oh, alright. But stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" she asked, innocently, with a smile to match. She bat her eyelashes at him, just for good measure.

"Like _that**, **_for makers sake!" he blushed. It was absolutely adorable, and it made her bat her eyelashes at him one more time.

"La-la...!"

She laughed, "Oh alright. Spoilsport. Let's head out to Dust-town and see what we can find out about this Carta. When we have some information we can figure out what our next step is."

* * *

><p>He twirled the apple core between his fingertips, savoring the words that Leliana had left him with. Over and over they repeated, as if he were tumbling a stone to shine. He sighed, and sat forward on his elbows, dropping the apple core gently against the stone. The fight they'd had that evening came back in stark contrast to the silence of the stone walls, ceiling, and floor around him.<p>

"_Please, do tell me you do not truly believe this hogwash, my dear La."_

"_Shouldn't I? That was my cousin standing in front of me, telling me things that only _she_ would know."_

"_Asyla..."_

" _I've never been big on religion and gods. It was a human that humans revered, and what has their Maker ever done for any of us... but, what if its real? What if these ashes work? What then? Should I keep telling myself that Andraste was probably just some extra-pretty woman and that The Maker just a human's excuse for not taking responsibility for his own actions?"_

"_Why yes, that is exactly what you should be doing, my dear. These.. illusions.. they are designed to trick the mind, to make one think they are less then they are. The Maker could, indeed, be real enough, and perhaps Andraste was a real woman, but should you lie your life before them and expect them to just, poof, make it in the light of perfection? There are a million things in this world that go unexplained."_

"_That's not what I meant."_

"_No? Ah, surely then you mean to spend the remainder of your life in prayer for an absent god that cares nothing of the humans that worship him. Alas, let us not also forget we Elves, whom he has never once turned an eye to so long as I know of our history, my dear warden." his tone had come off so very bitter, and part of him had meant it. She was making quite a fuss over nothing._

"_It seemed pretty real to me, Zevran. Besides, Maybe I need to believe in something, Zevran. Maybe I need to know that someone loves me," The hitch in her voice spoke volumes, as volume of her voice rose, "Maybe I'm tired of being the one to give, and give, and give and GIVE. My mother died fighting off a guard who was trying to rape her. My father said he loved her, but he refused to even lift a finger as they slit her throat open end to end. When Shianni's mother died and she came to live with us, I was the one who went to work to help feed us. Not Sorris, not Shiannai, not my father. Me. When they carted us off like cattle for the slaughter, I was the one who freed everyone. And now I'm the one expected to save the world from the blight and everyone's sodding problems."she panted heavily, her red hair wild around her face and her green eyes ablaze._

_Had it been any other night, he would have told her she was beautiful when she was angry, and carted her off to tent. Yet, something about that tomb and this night had set him on edge, and so when he grinned, he showed his teeth. "Such a shame really. I wish what I had been told of you, my dear, was correct. Alas, it is not. You are not the strong, fierce red-haired she-demon with twin fangs set to eat a man's heart alive with the barest of looks. You, are in fact, nothing more then one more alienage mouse looking for forgiveness for doing a terrible wrong to your human masters."_

_She hit him. Square in the jaw. With the full force of that petite body. It hurt. He might just have deserved it, too. His jaw throbbed, and he stumbled back a few paces before catching his footing. He brought his hand to the place where her fist had made contact with his face, and rubbed gently. His lip was split, and tastes of blood. She'd managed to catch him off guard. It would never happen again. This, _this_, was exactly the kind of thing the crows warned of. If you let your mark become a person, they will hurt you. They will always betray you to save themselves. It had been what Talisan had warned him of with Rina, even if it had turned out not to be the case._

_He stared at her, this beauty of an elf, with all her fire-hair and her grass green eyes, and simply laughed. He laughed, because what else could a man do in such a situation? Should he hit her back? He'd love to, but alas it was not for gentlemen and assassins to strike a woman. Especially if that woman could more then likely kick your ass. He laughed._

"_I swore an oath, and I will not break it. This does not mean that I enjoy it any longer." he said, as he turned his back to her, and walked away._

"Zevran?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice. He had not expected them to be back quite so soon. She stood facing him, her fire-hair pulled neatly in its tail, a few strands to short to stay back willingly falling in her pretty face. It made his chest ache, which send alarm bells through his head.

She was dressed in her fine leathers, a gift from the Arl of Redcliff after saving his life, and the lives of both his wife and child. His mind made note of just how very well they suited her figure, and then he scolded himself. It did naught to have seductive thoughts of a woman, this woman, whom he was still angry at.

Yet, she was speaking, and it took him a few moments to will his eyes away from her chest so that he might actually hear what it was she was saying. "... and now that we've found our way in, I need you to accompany me to complete this job."

"Why my dear, are you sure you wouldn't rather bring your dashing young warrior? It might do him a world of good to see how .. well, how his better half lives." he couldn't help himself, the bitterness spilled forth from his lips before he could stop them.

"Not that it's any of your business, Zevran Arainai." she countered, stubbornly, both hands on her hips, and what luscious hips they truly were. "And when I _meet _my better half, I will be glad to not bother to tell _you._ Now suite up and meet me outside in twenty minutes."


	6. Curses and Carta

Dragon Age: Origins, and all related characters, themes, and etc are property of Bioware. They're kind enough to allow me to barrow their world.

A/N: This is shorter then it could be, and took me almost two months to write. Such is the nature of writers block. But! I have managed to hook a Beta, the glorious and very-talented Berelinde, who's been linked in my profile and I recommend everyone go read her wonderful Hawke/Anders fic's. Because they're wonderful. Do it.

* * *

><p>She sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she rifled through the remains of the elven mage. She didn't even want to begin to wrap her brain around the fact that there were elves, let alone the four Qunari they'd come up against, inside the walls of the dwarven city. Coin, jewelry, some food, a nice dagger. All of the guards she'd searched so far had been a bust, and the man behind the jail-cell groaned as he held up his dying lady-friend.<p>

"Ah ha!" announced the silky voice of Zevran from across the room, "All one must ever do is look for the man with the biggest weapon. It means he has a need for power, for he has little else to offer."

She smirked as he came around the corner, holding up a brass keyring. A very large brass keyring. "We more then likely could have just picked the locks, but since our jailer friends here decided to attack us... well, I am sure neither of us really needed to expend the effort."

"Great, can you get us out? She's not going to last much longer unless I get some food and water in her."

"Who is she, anyway?" Asyla asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as she helped the two out of the cell.

"Acre. She and I used to work for Beraht... uh, that would be Jarvia's man. He used to run the Carta before Acre stuck her knife in his stomach. He gave her older sister, Rica, off to bed some noble to get pregnant. She's not the bedding type though; Acre, that is. At least she's not the breeding type. So we did odd jobs for Beraht for a while, till he sent us to fix the proving and our man was dead drunk. She took up his armor and won the whole sodding thing.." he panted as they set the girl down against the stone.

Zevran knelt, offering his water-skin to the sandy-haired dwarf. She took it from him weakly, gulping as she poured it down her throat. Leske continued his tale, "Everything would have been stone, except our man decided to stumble out on to the field bare-assed drunk. If it hadn't been for that Grey Warden, whats his name. All humans look alike to me. Anyway, if it hadn't been for him, she would have lost her head right there and then in front of all of Orzammar and the Stone."

"Duncan." Acre whispered, looking up at the lot of them. Asyla knelt beside the dwarven lass and smiled. Behind the layers of soot and dirt was a pretty enough face, if gaunt and wrinkled from her apparent lack of nourishment. What set this Acre out, though, were her endlessly dark brown eyes. A woman with eyes like that could be capable of anything, including murder.

"You met Duncan?"

She smiled tiredly up at Asyla, and Asyla squeezed this woman's shoulder gently. "Yes, he tried to recruit me, actually. After I stole four sovereigns from him in the market place, before the Proving."

"The sod-head told him that she'd love to talk to him.." Leske piped in, setting Asyla's water-skin in his lap, "just as soon as we finished fixing the Proving."

"He.. laughed, and said an honest thief was the best sort."

Zevran chuckled, "Ah, but it is. An honest thief will steal your coin, but when you need the truth he'll never shy away from it. A loyal man, or woman, perhaps, can be found in an honest thief."

"Hmm, that's what he said, kind of. Not quite so handsomely though." Acre grinned, at least as best as she was able. It caused Asyla to laugh, "Hmm, that's my Zevran."

"Beraht had me thrown in the jail, but Acre here he decided to take him to bed."

"Sodding mistake, that one. I waited 'til he came in, and shanked him. Repeatedly. His guards tossed me in here. I don't think they ever told Jarvia that I was still alive."

"Or me. She's not the type to take prisoners." Leske muttered.

Zevran _tsk'd_, shaking his head, "It is a sad day, indeed, when you let your underlings decide the fate of prisoners. Come," he extended a hand to the dwarven lass, "My fiery warden and I have a task to complete, and you are in need of some chaos to slip behind."

"Good idea." She nodded towards Zevran. "You said Duncan tried to recruit you? If he saw something in you worthy of the Wardens, then you're welcome to come with us. Sadly he's gone to the Maker and I don't know the... the _finer_ details on how a Warden is _initiated._ But, once we start a bit of trouble, you two head to the Warden compound. Ask for Alistair, and give him.. this."

Asyla reached around her neck, unhooking her warden's amulet, and slipping it into Leske's hand. " The only one it'll be worth anything to is another Warden. He'll let you in and have our Healer take a look at you. You'll be safe there, 'til we return. We'll discuss what you'd like to do next afterwards."

"Alistair?"

"Yes, Alistair." she nodded confidently at Leske. "Just be aware that I travel with two mages, a skilled Bard, a Sten of the.. a Qunari, and a mabari hound. And that doesn't count Alistair, who was once a templar. They'll be kind enough, so long as you're honest."

"You..." Leske sputtered.

"A Qunari?" Acre asked.

"Really?" Leske questioned, his face curious now.

"Yes, really, she does. As well as a devastatingly handsome assassin." Zevran drawled, and Asyla's shoulder tingled with the weight of the hand he dropped upon it. "We are a strange group, to be sure, but our lovely Warden has quite the task, and we would protect her with our very lives to see it done."

It was very hard to remember that she was still mad at him. So hard that she had to remind herself. She fought off the heat creeping into her cheeks that was threatening to take away her credibility. "You two think you can manage?"

Acre nodded, sliding an arm around Leske, "We can get there, safe enough."

"Good. Zevran, are you ready?"

"Lead on, O beautiful Warden." He drawled.

* * *

><p>Zevran crept quietly behind Asyla, close enough to her to smell the sweat rolling down her neck. That flame-colored hair swung in its ponytail as they crept through the tunnel. The plan was to sneak past the defenses of this Jarvia person to strike at the heart of this Carta issue. It was a sound plan, if he did say so himself. It would have been much easier to do if every movement of her body didn't cause him to have images of pushing her against the stone walls of the cavern and having his way with her right there.<p>

It really was tempting, too, because she smelled wonderful. Well, wonderful considering that she was sweating and covered in dust and blood. Which was to say, still wonderful. She wore no fancy perfumes that other women he'd been with at one time or another wore. She either smelled of freshly oiled leathers or sweat. Both of which he could appreciate. Sweat indicated physical effort of some kind or another. Fresh leather was a favorite sent of his, and brought forth warm feelings of _safety_ and _home_.

He shook his head as they crept. He hardly could allow himself to become distracted with lecherous thoughts of the Warden when their lives were at the threshold of danger. It was increasingly more difficult for him, though, as they shuffled in the darkness, silent as jungle cats. Images of her in various states of attire kept flashing before his eyes. The whole thing was made that much worse when he brushed his bare forearm against hers.

He'd almost forgotten just how very soft her skin was. Then there was a whole new wave of images and smells and memories to fight off. His mind went to thoughts of his own lips brushing against that soft skin, along her pale throat, over her supple breasts. His mouth watered as his mind wandered south upon her imaginary body.

_No. We've a job to do,_ he tried to convince himself, to calm his urges. _I am supposed to be angry at my dear La-la, not imaging her naked beneath me... writhing in pleasure... calling out my name, those green eyes filled with desire.._

"_Zevran!" _he heard her hiss his name, and came back to the here-and-now a moment too late. He heard the telltale "Click!" of a sprung trap, and had time to do naught but flinch as the explosion came. The pain that should have come after it did not. Was he dead? He must have been, because instead of screaming and the agony that should have come with the explosive trap, he felt nothing but light-headed. It took him several moments to realize that there was a weight pressed against his chest.

The after-ring in his ears slowly began to fade away, replaced with the sound of heavy breathing. He held his own breath, now that he knew that he still had breath to hold. The sound came from the weight against his chest, and after a moment, he moved his hands to see exactly, if what, was on top of him.

"Death feels quite a bit like a beautiful woman. I am pleasantly surprised," he whispered into the darkness.

He felt the weight begin to lift from him, and her voice came in a whispered answer full of emotion, "_Zevran_.."

He wove his arms around her middle, drawing her close to him, "My dear, it seems as if once again you have saved my life. You really aught to be careful, lest it become habit."

"You're not hurt, are you?" she whispered into the darkness. He could feel her breath on his face, and his eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness after the brightness of the blast.

He felt his laughter bubble up from some unknown bit of his subconscious, and let it roll up his throat and out of his mouth in the darkness. At this most awkward moment that it was, he couldn't help it. Was he alright? Of course he was alright. He was Zevran.

"What's so fun-?" he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers, just to prove to this ridiculous red-haired woman laying on top of him in the dark that he was, in fact, alright. He let his fingers clutch at her hips and he kissed her. He kissed her because he was Zevran Arainai, suave and sexy. He was Zevran the Assassin, the master of loving and killing.

Was Zevran going to allow some pretty _Chantry _boy take away from him such a woman as this, this elfin beauty who's fiery personalty matched her hair? He was Zevran! So he kissed her, and after a moment, he could feel her kissing back. The initial stun of the kiss was wearing off, her rigid muscles began to relax in his arms. Her mouth softened around his, and the kiss was returned to him, full of lust_._

Hands were moving, sliding into his hair, making fists with his hair all tangled up in them. _Her hands, delicate, nimble, and so sexy with all their hidden lines and knife-scars from years of practice... _He could see her hands in his mind as they tugged at his hair. Rough hands, hands that belonged to a woman that understood the world. The image of those hands as those fingers pressed against his scalp sent a thrill through him, and he felt himself groan against her lips.

He found a sudden appreciation for why the dwarves chose to live underground. There was a certain, appeal, to having to use your imagination instead of your eyes. Especially when the lean body pressed against your hips reacted the way this particular one was, grinding into him as a reaction to his groan.

The reaction did nothing for his condition, the one he'd been stewing in as the two had shuffled quietly down the stone corridors of this secret dwarven base. Which they were presently still in. This thought came from... somewhere, perhaps from the back of his mind. He chose to ignore it, or at least later tried to tell himself that it was on purpose. Between his hands were hips that should have been too well-toned to feel so deliciously curvy. Pressed against his chest, separated by two sets of skin tight leathers, were soft handfuls of breasts. Breasts that he knew fit perfectly into his hands. Only to well.

The mental images of the different bits, some of his favorite fleshy bits to be sure, drove him insane. He let his mouth slide down to the hollow of her throat, lips and teeth and tongue and chin and _skin. _Her throaty, desperate whimper responded, which only caused him to respond in kind. He pushed his hips into hers, and whispered her name into the darkness, _"Asyla.."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Asyla", <em>his voice rolled out, thick with accented emotion, and her body exploded. Had she been in a rational state of mind, she would have cursed her body for betraying her so very utterly when she was supposed to be angry at the Antivan currently nibbling on her collar bone. Had she been in a rational state of mind, she'd push herself off of him and _remind him_ that they were on the stone floor of the Carta's hideout. If she were _rational_ she would smack him for kissing her, for almost getting them killed, and stalk off, pony-tail and hips swaying.

She was, at present, not in a rational state of mind. She could have been there, maybe she even was, when he kissed her. She had been ready to slap him. The thought hadn't lasted very long. He'd done that... fucking groan thing he was so fucking good at, and all of her bones had fucking melted into a fucking puddle of Asyla, right fucking there on top of him. In the fucking dark. In fucking Orzammar. Fuck.

Maker, did that fucking word fit the moment. Fuck. She had always liked that particular curse. It was like "shem" and "bitch" and "ass". She'd always been fond of cussing, a side effect from working on the docks as a child. Her father had hated it, her cousins had always found it _so _funny. A good word, fuck. It worked well with _so many _moments. Like this fucking one, for fucking example.

She'd like nothing more then to _fuck him_, right there, on the floor. In the darkness. The darkness wasn't so bad because even if she couldn't _see _him, she could smell him, and he always smelled like freshly oiled leather. It was her favorite fucking smell.

She could feel him too, grinding his hips against her own, and driving her absolutely fucking insane. His lips were hot on her throat. Everything about him was hot. She imagined Antiva was hot, like Zevran always was, and imagined a naked Zevran lying under the sun, on the beach, with blue fucking sky all around and the wind in his hair.

"_Fuck."_

He laughed, his warm voice reverberating through her, even as his body beneath him shook from the act. It just made her want him more. Fuck. Fuck him, and his beautiful hair, and his sexy laugh, and..

"_Fuck!"_

He had moved or... or touched her... or something, she didn't even fucking know! A shiver of ecstasy ran up her spine. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled, not hard enough to hurt him but hard enough to get her point across. Then, his mouth was on hers again, and they were kissing, and her mind no longer even fucking existed. It had poured out of her ear or her foot or some other part not being touched by the man she was sitting astride.

She had no idea how exactly long they had sat there, making out and panting and him _fucking touching her_ in places that made her writhe and moan in the darkness. Eventually though, her mind began to come back to her from wherever it had gone. It was roughly around the point where she was no longer straddling him, and the two of them were laying side by side on the stone floor, kissing and touching. It had gone from ridiculously hot to amazingly tender.

Tender was new, he hadn't shown her tender before. It was... different, nice. Vulnerable. She hadn't even been sure Zev could _do_ vulnerable, but he was. Not that she could see him. She was pretty sure though that if she could, he would be staring endlessly at her with those amazing warm-chocolate eyes of his in between the tender kisses he had been raining down on her lips.

She didn't want to break their embrace, but her mind was coming back to her, and she remembered that they still had to kill a woman, a dwarven woman, so that they could put a prince on a throne and get the void out of Orzimmar. She remembered that they'd come to Orzimmar to get an army. An army, for The Blight.

Her voice cracked, as the word, her new favorite word of the day, came tumbling out of her mouth one more time. This time, though, it was full of the wrong kind of emotion."Fuck."


End file.
